Olivia's Academy for Girls
by Shyro Foxfeather
Summary: If it meant getting away from his home town, then he would attend a girls' school in a heart beat. Too bad he didn't realize that a very pushy girl was about to make him regret that decision. AU: crossdressing!UK x fem!US Very Short Hiatus
1. Prelude

**Olivia's Academy for Girls**

**Prelude**

By Shyro Foxfeather

* * *

"Your grandmother, Elizabeth, has sent a letter." Uncle Francis declared, flouncing down onto the couch dramatically. Arthur looked up, a decidedly weary look on his face.

When his uncle said no more, he internally groaned. "…And?" He asked, having no patience for this kind of suspense. His grandmother was old, possibly senile, and was the main flow of life-sustaining money in their account right now. Heaven forbid she croaks or his uncle's life of being a 'free-lance artist' would bring them to ruin.

His uncle eyed the middle-distance, scratching his chin in thought. "She says it's time you ought to go to a proper school, _mon neveu_."

Arthur perked. "Really?" He asked, sputtering when the Frenchmen flashed him a grin at his obvious excitement. His grandmother had promised for as long as he could remember that she would pay for his schooling, but he was already half-way through high school and he had thrown out that hope as merely being the ramblings of an old woman.

"_Oui_, although…" His uncle frowned, looking put-out.

"What?"

He turned a critical eye to Arthur, who stared back resiliently. He was used to this look, although usually not from his uncle. "It's… nothing. _Pas de soucis_." He flapped an envelope like a fan against the heat—Arthur watched it cautiously; it looked like _the _envelope. "We shall just 'ave to prepare for your departure this coming month."

Arthur's heart fluttered. "You mean…?" His uncle nodded.

The boy grabbed his book and fled the room, lest his uncle see the grin that was about to split his face. He rushed upstairs to his room and flopped onto his bed. Behind the closed door he still attempted to maintain some composure, but even he would admit he was doing a lousy job of it.

He would be going to a new school! He would be going to a place of dedicated learning with lots of books and peers who could actually keep pace in a conversation! He rolled onto his back, clutching a pillow in his arms.

Best of all, he would never, ever see the leering faces of his peers. His face fell at the thought, years of bullying and humiliation overbearingly taking his emotions hostage. He wouldn't let his peers at this school know about his 'abilities'. He would have tried to hide it the first time around, but he had only been six years old…

His mood darkened. How could… how could children be so cruel? How come they never grew out of it?

He ripped his face away from the ceiling—it's grainy, white visage small comfort. Rolling onto his side he eyed his bookcase. His collection was meager, since he mostly borrowed from the local library. He wondered with hope how big the library at his new school would be. A small smile snuck onto his face.

He was leaving behind a small world and venturing into something bigger. He would have almost felt guilty over abandoning his uncle if he didn't know how much he was a financial burden on the man. Although, his uncle would never say that—he didn't think it. He was purely relieved for the boy. He even claimed that he was the one that inspired such a notion in his grandmother once, but Arthur knew that was impossible. His parents had done that…

His gaze leapt to the framed picture on his desk; his mother and father's faces beamed back at him.

He wilted. He would be leaving them behind for now. Although, he fully knew they would be happy for him. He would have to visit them at cemetery before he left. He eyed his wallet on the bedside table wondering if he had enough money for some nice flowers.

* * *

"Look at all the people…!" Arthur exclaimed before catching and reeling back his excitement. The train station was bustling with its own thrilling little life.

His uncle clasped his shoulder. "_Oui_. Although a mere 'andful of them is enough for you to call out at, my little shut-in." He ignored the strained glare Arthur shot him. He would have gone outside more if there had been something worth seeing out there. When you lived in a town of only three-hundred or so people, there wasn't really a whole lot to do that didn't involve getting caught up in town drama.

Arthur gripped his ticket, sweat beading in his palms. The Elder Line was printed in bold at the top, but he didn't need to look at it to know that. The information on this card had been burned into his memory days ago. The ticket had even earned itself a noble perch of being securely clipped on his corkboard, much to his uncle's amusement.

It would arrive in twenty minutes.

His heart leapt into his throat and he thoroughly chastised it before knocking in back down to its rightful place. This was no time for nervousness. He didn't want his peers' first impression of him to be that of a nerve-rattled, semi-sheltered teenager. That simply would not do. He was determined to carve his own reputation there and _no one _was taking that away from him.

The minutes flew by so fast, yet ticked by so slowly, that when he heard a train make its way into the station his head was swimming rather violently. He was sure he was shaking, but if his uncle noticed he didn't mention it. Small miracle, that.

"Are you ready to board, _mon neveu_?" His uncle asked. Arthur snapped his eyes up to look at him and then at the clock. It was well into boarding time. How did he miss that…?

"Y- yes." He replied, his own brows furrowing at his stutter. _God_, he hoped _that _didn't become a habit.

His uncle gave him a warm smile before pulling his artists bag forward to rifle through it. When had he brought that, Arthur wondered. He was sure he would have noticed something like that.

"'ere are your directions," he was informed as he quickly swiped the slip of paper from his uncle, "and 'ere…" at this his uncle paused and gave him one last scrutinizing look. He had been giving him that look a lot lately. Arthur was beginning to wonder if the man was having inappropriate thoughts about him. There was absolutely no way the man would be lonely without him. He might feel _guilty_ if that were so, so it simply wasn't.

The Frenchmen cleared his throat before dropping a package into the boy's lap. It was rather large and considerably heavier than it looked. He mindlessly, all nerves, reached for the edge to tear into it when his uncle slapped his hand away. Arthur looked up, extremely startled.

"This," his uncle gestured to the package, "is _only_ for opening at the end of your train trip. An 'our before your stop." At Arthur's incredulous stare he continued. "I'm not sure you would know what to do with yourself if you opened it any earlier." He tapped the boy on the nose. "You will figure it out _then_. _Comprendre_?"

Well, if he did his uncle the favor of waiting to open the package it obviously legitimized his leaving and no guilt was to fall upon his head, right?

He nodded, clutching the package. It squished under his hold and he tucked it into his duffle. It had room to spare—he didn't own _that _much.

Then, as if in a blur, he was ushered onto the train, led to a room by his uncle and an attendant (who was informed then about Arthur's sheltered-ness, much to the boy's distaste), and then left alone with his thoughts. And a package sitting curiously in his duffle.

He was just thankful his uncle had chosen such a non-crowded line to take him to his new town. The train was almost empty and it gave him a chance to come to terms with the fact that he would soon be parting with his solitude.

He was going to a private school. With people everywhere. Including roommates.

He wrung his hands nervously and sighed a puff of steam onto the window.

* * *

He eyed the contents of the package warily, his stop exactly one hour away.

What the _bloody hell_ was this! If this was a _joke_ he was never directing any sort of kind thought at his uncle ever again. What did his uncle think he _was_?

Ignoring the blouse and skirt—along with a number of other femininely horrible items—he ripped open the letter that had been inside the package.

'_Mon neveu_,' he silently read, _'I am so sorry for not informing you sooner. You are too precious a youth to spend your time holed up in your room. The private school your grandmother decided to send you to is single-gendered and I am sure you can guess which one by now. I debated telling you, but you absolutely could not pass up this opportunity ! I have included in this package everything I could think of that you would need. Including a guide, which you will see inside. Please do not take this too badly; I was only thinking of your own good, I promise…'_

The letter went on for a bit. A lot of apologizing throughout and all kinds of advice—some downright lewd. It was like the man was right there, ranting on and on at him.

He couldn't understand much of it. He was seeing too much red. He was absolutely livid, furious, and insurmountably angry. Coupled with his nerves he was close to breaking down.

But…

A flash of his bullies back home taunting him while he wore a woman's dress snuck into his thoughts, his mind gleefully supplying an image of the trouble he would get into going through with this, and he paused, staring down at the skirted uniform.

He… he would never see them ever _again_. And all he had to do was wear _this_? As long as he kept his gender a secret it would be fine, right? And that was actually possible—his uncle had said once that he had very womanly legs, for which he punched him very hard for. The package even had a kit with some items his uncle had 'lovingly' advised he tame his eyebrows with.

It was plausible. Arthur did even consider himself a rather good actor if only to his bedroom walls and his past efforts to remain unaffected by _those back home_.

Those back home.

It had a delightful ring to it. It sparkled with the lilt of distance.

He determinedly stared at the uniform. There was absolutely no way he was going back home just because he was afraid of a skirt and a building full of girls.

* * *

**Notes: **This is shorter than normal chapters will be, I think. I didn't want to flesh out _his entire_ back story at once. Information overload, anyone? (This whole story takes place in no specific country, but you could just say England.) And I don't own Hetalia, nor do I claim to, so let's just get that out of the way here.

(Also, I'm sorry if there are any errors. I appreciate people pointing them out.)

**French:**_ "mon neveu_" means "my nephew". "_Pas de soucis__._" means "No worries." (I'm not sure if this is correct). And "_Comprendre_?" means "Understand?". As well, in France's letter he puts a space before the exclamation mark. This is on purpose. It's correct to do when writing _in French_.

"Elder" is a type of tree that means 'transition, evolution, continuation' [in Celtic, given] according to a website I found. So, the train line is named that on purpose.

France was semi-written out of the story because I needed someone who would do _this _to England. And honestly the way things are looking there was no one to really _pair _France with, so… I'm sorry to all the France fans. (And he's not really England's uncle, but a really, really close family friend. This isn't really that important, so I reveal it now.)

And Arthur's grandmother, Elizabeth, is like an elderly Hungary (Elizaveta) and did this all on purpose just to see what would happen. I couldn't write out Elizaveta, since I need her to fulfill the role of 'girl' and 'schemer'.

Yes, faux-fem!Arthur will have pigtails. Reviews are awesome like Prussia.


	2. Unwarranted Friends

**Olivia's Academy for Girls**

**Chapter 1: Unwarranted Friends**

By Shyro Foxfeather

* * *

**Note: **In Arthur's perspective, he's a he and his name is Arthur, which is why he is continually called that in narrative despite having a feminized name. His voice is also self-feminized [after the first scene] unless stated otherwise.

* * *

His stop was five minutes away.

Arthur stared critically at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, clicking his tongue—it stared back at him just as hard.

He smirked, "Well, I-," he hesitated, adjusting his voice to accommodate a more feminine inflection, "I think I can pass this off well." Even his voice sounded at least gender-neutral enough to be convincing—at least to _him_ it did. As long as he softened his tone, his British accent disguised much of the deeper tremors of his voice.

He directed a very focused look at his reflection. "I am a fox." He said, and promptly snorted at such ridiculousness coming from him. He hoped that if he _acted _confident he might actually gain some semblance of _being _confident, but it wasn't going to help if he couldn't stop from _laughing_.

This had to be the stupidest, craziest thing he had ever done. And of course his uncle had a hand in it. Why was he _not_ surprised?

His reflection was horribly foreign to him. His slightly wild locks tamed by a sort of swim-cap-esque hat and surprisingly comfortable wig that was pinned securely into place. Rather soft, realistic locks of hair brushed neatly into school-girl pigtails—at which he first had blanched at, but the look was growing on him. He wore a pair of glasses, round, which did well to distract from his somewhat-more-presentable-than-before eyebrows. (He was rather loathe to have even touched them, but he had _tried_, since they would be more mockable on him as a girl.)

His outfit was the girls' uniform he assumed—oh _god_, he hoped it was or he was going to be horribly embarrassed walking in there. The skirt was rather short, he thought, but significantly long enough to cover everything that needed it _and then some_. It was some red, plaid atrocity that was determined to make his legs noticed with the ease with which is _swished_. And after the horror he had just put his legs through in hair-removal, it worked rather well to scream, 'Look at me! Long feminine legs, right here!' (He wasn't being egotistical—his legs were presenting themselves rather femininely and for most of his life he would have never, ever wanted them to. It wasn't his fault that he was in-shape. For now, however, he was grateful.)

His blouse was soft and white and was currently mostly obscured by the uniforms' sweater. A red sailor-like ribbon sat gently beneath, constantly reminding him of its presence for the moment. Long white knee-highs and black, modest shoes later and he was completely dressed and ready for waltzing right up to that school.

(As well, his uncle had included some particular _items_ that did well to hide his gender and some that were to _emphasize_ his faux-gender. He decided the former was useful and the latter was not—he wasn't _completely_ shameless. In fact, he had to wonder exactly where his uncle had gotten most of this stuff. He didn't dwell on that long, however, quickly determining that he didn't want to know.)

The train was slowing down—he could feel it. Gathering up his supplies, he exited the restroom, once more thankful that the train was so empty. Someone had only knocked once during the whole of his slightly traumatizing use of it. He had semi-yelled at them and it seemed that was sufficient enough for them to wander further down the train in search of one of the other restrooms.

His skirt swished all the way back to the cabin, where he carefully placed all his items back in their proper duffel positions. Hoisting the bag onto his shoulder, he made for the exit. (Apparently his uncle has re-packed all his clothes without his noticing. Now his bag mostly contained women's garments or gender-neutral outfits. He didn't know whether to be thankful or scandalized.)

The train had fully stopped by the time he exited his cabin. An attendant was helping passengers de-board the train—mostly helping with luggage in particular. Arthur almost smirked; this lad would be the first test of his efforts and his acting.

When he had almost reached the exit, the young man spotted him. The attendant eyed him a moment—a once-over that Arthur was thoroughly not used to receiving—before he put on what Arthur _had_ to assume was his 'woo-ing' face. There was absolutely no other reason for anyone to wear such a peculiar expression.

"Need help disembarking, miss?" He asked, gesturing to the duffle. It seemed ridiculous to Arthur, since said bag was blatantly half-empty.

He shook his head politely the way he'd seen some of his more demure female classmates do. "No, thank you." He murmured. When the man's expression did not change from the ghastly 'woo-ing' face, he repressed the urge to grin. He passed his first test rather well, he thought, disembarking the train.

Feeling a bit more elated than he had when he got on the train—an hour of focus on something that was pseudo-artistic, if not entirely disturbing, helped—he wandered over to a bench to get his bearings. The station was pulsing with much more life than the previous, the air smelled different here, and his legs were absolutely unused to _breezes._

Adjusting his duffel, he pulled out the directions to the campus along with a map of the area that his uncle had cut out of the school brochure. Crude, but effective. He eyed the street of his destination.

He stared down at the map, his fake-glasses sliding down his nose.

There were… two schools on this street if the large sprawling buildings and marked territory boundaries were any indication. His eyebrows furrowed. Why on earth would there be…?

He froze, slightly petrified and mostly mortified.

Oh _hell_. Was there an all boys' school, too? Was he being put through this humiliation due to some error on behalf of his grandmother? _Oh_, he smacked his forehead; she had probably phoned the wrong establishment. It would be cruel irony if he found out that the phone numbers were only one digit different. Life _hated_ him.

Actually, he probably shouldn't jump to conclusions so fast. He would find out about the other buildings soon enough. If they _were_ a boys' school he wondered if they would be so kind as to transfer him. That seemed a viable option if he notified them soon enough. He just hoped the two schools' admission system was connected somehow; otherwise his chances were much slimmer.

His eyes slipped to the red, pleated skirt covering his lap. This had been such a _hassle_! Why did his life have to torment him?

Oh well. He would just tell them everything. It was always the just option to be honest in such circumstances. So what if there was a chance they sent him _back home_?

He fingered the edge of the skirt nervously.

What was he going to _do_?

"_A- ano_… Miss are you alright?" A soft voice broke through his thoughts. It was only then he realized that he was hunched over the map, hand clutching at his head. He felt a tremor of disgust—had he really been displaying his emotions so openly?

He raised his head, pressing down a bubble of embarrassment. A short girl with chin-length black hair faced him with worry evident only in her eyes. She was wearing the same uniform, sans the sweater, which helpfully told Arthur that he was not, in fact, wearing some pervert's hidden closet garb. Small victories. "Er…" He heightened his pitch, "I'm quite alright. Peachy, in fact. You?"

The girl seemed taken aback by the question—Arthur was as well, his brain on auto-pilot was betraying him. "I- I am fine." She looked around nervously. "_Eto_, you are…?"

"Alice Kirkland." He supplied. His uncle's instructions had included such information about his new self, much to his relief. He was terrible at on-the-spot 'creativity'.

The girl nodded—bowed? "My name is Honda Kiku… _aa_, Kiku Honda, I mean. My first name is Kiku. I just got back from Japan, so…" She flushed, nervously clutching her bag. Arthur stared at her owlishly. Aw, _how cute_, she was shy!

A bit of confidence welled up in him. It was the kind that only appeared when faced with somebody much more unconfident than himself. He snapped up his papers and stood with the air of someone who had the world in their hands. "Are you headed for Olivia's?" He asked, soft voice distinctly feminine this time. (He might have been more proud of this if it weren't so embarrassing a talent. He wasn't going to ponder it any longer than necessary.)

"A- ah yes!" She squeaked. Arthur attributed it to the change in his demeanor. "I actually lost my map." She started to make strange hand motions that Arthur couldn't interpret. "I should know this part of town better, but last year I just followed my friend there and this year he arrived before me, so…" She trailed off, having exhausted her 'talk to strangers' meter for the day, apparently. Arthur curiously pondered her use of the word 'he', but decided not to question it. Yet. It was rude to ask strangers about their personal lives.

"I have a map. Does that help?" He asked, waving the cut-out. Kiku eyed it until it became obvious that he wanted her to take it. She hesitated, but gently took it.

After a moment of analyzing the map she handed it back. "Thank you, Kirkland-san." She paused. "I think I understand now. I suppose I should be going there now." She fidgeted.

Silence.

"Do you want to walk there together?" Arthur asked, eyes bright for the distraction to his anxiety. It seemed like what she was implying anyway. Probably.

She looked relieved. "That would be appreciated."

* * *

They were half way to the school and he had already decided Kiku was strange. But Arthur attributed that to cultural difference. After she had called him by his last name, he decided he was going to avoid calling her anything for now. There were customs being used with which he was unfamiliar and he was loath to break them. Inaction was better than a misstep, right?

But overall he liked her. She was kind, shy, and—_thank god_—intellectual. Even if she was a little on the quiet side sometimes. He had also never talked to a girl this long before, but he would never, ever have admitted that out loud.

In fact, he would be surrounded by girls at this school.

After a moment's thought, he internally felt disgusted. He was a gentleman no matter what he was wearing—he would never use this disguise for such horrible purposes. Perversion belonged to his _uncle_. This whole mess was evidence for that, in fact. He was here for higher-learning. That much was _certain_.

"This library was originally the town hall. It is being protected as a historical landmark. The more modernized town hall is across town—Kirkland-san?"

Arthur hadn't realized he had stopped walking until she had called his name. "Ah…" He paused. A little glowing fairy was bobbing on a hedge leaf. Its gentle glow had initially caught his attention and he was pretty sure it had noticed his staring and was returning its own. It was rude to ignore a fairy. He gave a very slight nod, quickly turning back to Kiku who was giving him a very blank stare.

"The heat is getting to me." He explained. It was actually true; he had shed his sweater shortly after leaving the station due to the afternoon sun. And yet his legs were still chilled by the constant, light breeze. He couldn't fathom how girls did this every day. He was just thankful he was a naturally light sweater—he didn't want his body betraying him and his secret by making his blouse _see-through_. That would be horribly embarrassing.

Kiku's hand was in her bag in an instant. An unopened water bottle was shoved in his face. "If you get too hot you might get heat stroke. Drink this, it will help." She said politely, but with a bit of force. He wondered if such an event had happened to her before.

"Thank you very much." He said, accepting the bottle. Under her watch he opened it and drank. She seemed appeased at this, so he tucked the bottle into the side-pocket of his duffle. They continued walking.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief. This city was quite large, but there was still a great deal of country surrounding it. Green land promised lots of fae. He just hoped he could remain in good spirits with them while keeping his contact a secret. It was going well so far.

* * *

Arthur had to admit… the school was _impressive_.

He had to wonder exactly how rich his grandmother was. This was pushing the limit a little bit. Which was a horrible _understatement_.

It looked to be sprawling campus. From the brochure (of which, he had only been enabled to see when he had opened his uncle's package) there were technically buildings for every department of learning even though they were all attached. The dorm rooms were in there. _Somewhere_. As well, there was a football field, an American football field, a baseball field, and what Kiku explained from the map was a gym situated away from the main building.

It gave the impression of one very, _very_ large school.

The fact that its library was sketched out to be roughly the size of one of the departments was tremendously exciting. Oh lord, all the _books_ he could be reading!

From where he was standing at the front entrance of the school he couldn't even see the massive neighboring buildings—of which, he hoped was a boys' school. The girls' school campus was surrounded by a small, thick, man-made forest that served as a territory boundary and an adequate visual blockage, much to Arthur's chagrin.

"Hey," he drawled, looking at Kiku. "Is there another school down the street?" He was trying very, very hard to appear casual.

The girl looked startled—why on earth was that? "Y- yes." She glanced around as if confirming something before conspiratorially leaning towards Arthur. "The Headmistress here is, as my friend would say, very scary about the other school. Hera-sensei does not allow the boys to come here or for us to go there." She paused. "Although that does not stop anyone. Everyone can meet each other in the town."

"It's a boys' school?" He asked, her statement had said as much, but he wanted to confirm it. Maybe… if he could get out of these clothes and spill his plight to the Headmistress at the other school he might be shown some mercy, but there was still the chance that they would—_oh god, there was a hand on his shoulder!_

He spun, the hand dislodging, and met the kind eyes of an older woman with shoulder length dark brown hair. "Indeed, it is a boys' school." She stated calmly and Arthur immediately tried to place her accent, but found his mind blanking. He chanced a look at Kiku, who looked like she was going to faint. Glancing back to the woman, he was horrified to note that her expression had darkened. "And you must never, ever go there while attending this school."

"H- Hera-sensei, we were not thinking that." Kiku supplied. "Kirkland-san is new here." She gestured weakly, but the defense appeared well-received.

"Ah." The woman—was Hera a nickname?—turned back to him. "I will lead you to the dorms then, since you probably want to rest and put away your things." She gestured to their bags. "Miss Honda would be adequate a guide, but if you are new it is useful you know the rules. Orientation is not for a few days, but there are some things you should probably know before that…" She 'hmm' for a moment before: "How long was your trip?" She paused before adding, "And what is your name?"

"It was seven hours by train. And A-," He caught himself, "Alice Kirkland."

She fished a clipboard out of her bag and rifled through the papers for a moment. Catching a glimpse of the large header, Arthur read 'Dorm Assignments'. Well… that was one less thing for him to worry about. He guessed.

"You're in room 210." She murmured, and then flipped a few more pages. "And you, Miss Honda, are in room 167." She pulled a large ring of keys out of her bag before walking towards the school and motioning for them to follow, "Well, let us be on our way."

Arthur gave one last longing look at street. It probably would lead straight to his gender's salvation. He sighed.

The hope of transfer while dim before was completely snuffed; why did he have to go and be noticed by the _Headmistress_ on arrival? He was a _recognizable face_ now.

He almost groaned. He truly had terrible, terrible luck.

Since Kiku seemed to be shooting him apologetic looks, he assumed she must have had something to do with this particular incident. Or she might have just noticed the look on his face.

Oh well, best to be friends with the administration, right?

* * *

After being led to the far back of the school building, he was introduced to the dormitory section. He assumed that the distance had something to do with the security issues Kiku had mentioned earlier, much to his embitterment.

"Although we are a private school," Madam Hera said slowly—she said everything slowly, "we function more like an early college. More restrictions than an actual college, less than a normal private school. Two RA's on each floor, one for each hall. Curfew at eleven." She stopped walking, looking expectantly at Arthur. At his blank look she gestured to the door, "This is your room, Miss Kirkland." She removed a key from the ring. "And here is your key. Is there anything else you will need?"

He hadn't needed her help in the first place, but he smiled what he hoped was daintily and said, "No, thank you. You've done more than enough."

She brightened significantly and Arthur almost felt bad for harboring bitter thoughts towards her. "I am going to lead Kiku to her new hall then, if your need anything I will be around."

They left, Kiku sending Arthur a small wave, and he was at once alone in the strangely quiet hallway. He felt dazed—they had taken so many turns to get here, he wasn't sure how he was ever going to navigate this place!

Looking at the door, a little placard reading '210' cheerfully greeted him. Well, at least he was on the second floor. _That_ was something. He might even have a nice view.

Hesitantly he slipped the key into the lock and attempted to turn it. It refused. Frowning he tried the handle only to find it unlocked. _Strange_, he thought.

Glancing inside, his view displayed a very short hall with a bathroom off to his immediate right and a cupboard to his left. At the end was what appeared to be an empty, bare loft bed with a desk underneath, and the rest he couldn't see. He gripped his duffle and cautiously moved further into the room shutting the door quietly behind him.

There appeared to be another loft bed directly across from the first, but he was more distracted by the symmetrically lined up boxes in the center of the room. Those certainly weren't his. Glancing back and forth he wondered which side of the room he was to take.

The boxes were so neatly placed, not indicating one side over the other—

Something groaned lightly, sounding loud in the silent room and making Arthur _jump_. He instantly felt embarrassed by this, was he still _all nerves_?

He couldn't immediately _see_ anything.

He wandered further into the room. And then, hesitantly, he stood on his toes (he wasn't _short_, the loft beds were just a little too tall for him to properly see the top of), his modest, black, girly shoes flexibly allowing the movement much to his delight. He scanned the room from his new vantage point

Freezing, he suddenly felt thoroughly stunned and horridly jolted.

There was a girl on the other bed.

To be more precise, there was a blond girl on the other bed who was draped over it in a very curvaceous manner he didn't know existed outside of his uncle's hidden magazines (which he had totally not meant to discover and most certainly didn't read). Her shirt looked a size too tight and her skirt was sliding just a little too far up her leg for his liking.

He felt himself growing slightly faint and stumbled back, falling straight on his butt.

This didn't appear to wake the girl, much to his relief. Now that she was out of his view, he felt himself feeling completely ashamed. What was he, _some kind of bloody animal?_

Disgust washed over him. He was here for higher-learning. Yes, higher-learning.

Yeah…

Sitting on the floor, his body no longer in motion, he began to feel fatigue drip into his system. Dear lord, he was _tired_.

Today was too much for him, he concluded. It was already the middle of the evening, the sun a few hours from setting, and he already felt like he needed to sleep for _ten hours_. He would have slept on the train after having left so early in the morning, but dear lord _nerves_, and _excitement_ and a whole jumble of other emotions that left his stomach feeling distinctly acidic.

He pulled out his worn copy of "Treasure Island" and clambered clumsily onto the other bed, trying to keep a decent hold on his skirt despite being _almost_ alone. It was time he re-re-re-read it anyway.

The bed seemed to have a generically soft pillow, much to his relief, and he propped himself up to have a good read. If he could only get a decent cup of tea right now he was sure he would be able to quell his bubbling, uncertain feelings into nothing more than a smolder.

He very determinedly avoided glancing at his now much more visible roommate and began to read.

Without his consent, nor knowledge, he fell asleep.

* * *

His mind felt numb.

A light puff of hot air hit his face. He groaned; his uncle must have opened his bedroom window. He _hated_ when he did that. It was far too humid outside to allow such an invasion into his perfectly cool room.

A light and bubbly tinkling noise met his ears. That was odd. His uncle hadn't started trying to make wind chimes again, had he? They never sounded this nice.

Realizing he must have been sleeping—the haze that was waking was a heavy one for Arthur, nothing made sense during that period of time—he 'hmm-ed' and began to stretch, blinking his eyes to rid him of the blurriness.

"Hello…?" A whispered question lulled in his ears. The voice had not been his own.

His eyes shot open. For a moment all he could see was the color blue.

Blue…

Eyes?

Someone he did not know was grinning down at him. They were so close—too close; a blond strand of shoulder-length hair was a mere inch from tickling his face. Remembering where he was and feeling too much like prey to a predator, Arthur screamed—a high-pitched, girly sound that he had not planned on being as such.

The person looked startled, reeled backwards, and dropped out of view with a thump and a crash.

Silence. Then light snickering from across the room. "I told you that standing on a rolling chair was unwise." Someone said, tone flat.

Shaky laughter from the floor. "But I landed on something soft…"

Arthur propped himself up, his skirt modestly sticking close to his body unrevealingly—_thank god_. He peered over the side of the bed.

And promptly made a strangled screechy noise. "My duffle!"

The blond girl sheepishly slipped off of it and fluffed it up. "Good as new." She assured him. It was then Arthur realized that this was the girl from earlier. The one that had been sleeping on the other bed… And all the boxes were gone, replaced by items delicately positioned around the other side of the room and a fully made loft bed.

From behind her a girl with lighter, shorter blond hair and a pin in her hair was sitting at the opposite desk, dryly glaring at the girl on the floor. "You're annoying."

This did not deter the first girl. "Oh, Janne." She said, rolling her eyes at Arthur as if conveying some message—he didn't know what and was rewarded with a feeling of empty confusion.

Said Janne seemed to be rather unaffected by this display. "I just met you today. Do not talk like you know me." She said, turning back to the desk where she started—continued?— typing on a small laptop.

The room grew quiet save for the sound of fingers on the keyboard, the girl on the floor began tinkering with the handle of his duffle awkwardly. Finally Arthur found his vocal chords. "Are you my roommate?" He asked the girl on the floor.

She sprung up, standing with an exaggerated sweeping motion, and bubbling over with an energy that made Arthur feel distinctly overwhelmed. "Nope! I'm Ally! Who're you?" (He could here the other girl give a low mumble of disapproval at this girl's volume, but he couldn't make out what she had said.)

"I'm Alice." He supplied, not offering his last name if she didn't offer hers. The girl laughed. "What?"

"We could be 'Al'-buddies!" She chortled, looking thoroughly amused by the idea.

"What? No! That's idiotic." Arthur snapped. Alice was a rather nice, lady-like name. He wasn't going to have someone tarnish it with stupid nicknames.

The other girl, Janne, was looking at him and when she was sure she had caught his eye she said, "I'm your roommate. This girl had said she was with you. You do not know each other?"

"I've never met her before!" He said, feeling distinctly scandalized. "She was sleeping on that bed," he gestured, "when I came in."

Janne gave Ally a pointedly dry look before returning to her computer, no longer feeling the other girl was worth her time.

Ally pouted, "We could go get some coffee…?" She suggested to Arthur.

"Getting to know you now does not retroactively make you 'with me'." He gritted out, annoyed. He would admit she had been very attractive when asleep, but now that she'd opened her mouth some of the _stupidest_ things had come out of it. He felt relieved his actual roommate seemed _degrees _more reasonable.

"No, but really, coffee sounds really good about no—," she was interrupted by a sharp knocking on the door before it was swung open.

"I heard screaming, is Al—? Hey!" A girl with cropped, white hair yelped gesturing wildly. "Ally! Where have you been? I've been wasting my _awesome_ time looking for you. You missed Lovina's face when she found the—hey!" She seemed to notice the other people in the room. "New friends?"

"Yup!" She chirped at the same time Janne muttered a resentful, "No." She grabbed Arthur's hand, lifting it into the air. "This is my best friend!" She declared.

"What—! No I'm _not—!_" Arthur protested, but she cut him off.

"We were just about to go get some coffee!" She continued. And: _augh, she was holding his hand!_ He willed down a flush, hoping that what he couldn't stop was interpreted as anger. He _hated_ coffee.

The white-haired—or was it albino? Her eyes did look red from here—girl nodded approvingly. "Sounds good. I'll go fetch Feli and Lovi, since they'll probably want to come." She 'hmm'-ed before adding, "Well maybe not _Lovi_, after that. Speaking of which, I have pictures." She snickered and waved. "I'll be right back." And with that rushed off to _somewhere_. Arthur felt his head spin. What kind of horrible fast-paced life were these people living?

It was then he noticed the girl, Ally, was still firmly holding his hand. He pulled on it, catching her attention as she direction blue eyes glistening with mirth at him. "You new here?" She asked, not releasing his hand just yet despite the fact that she was standing on the floor and he was sitting on the bed—that angle had to be uncomfortable for her.

"Yes…?" He said, unsure of where she was going with this.

She beamed. "Great! Gill' is going to show me around town. I'm new, too. You _have_ to come!" She said.

He stared at her. Her forcefulness was mostly her brand of cheer and energy, but there was something else there. She tugged his hand and released it, successfully distracting him from that train of thought.

Janne glanced at them from across the room. "Please make her leave." She said blandly, waving vaguely at Ally.

"I'll only leave if Alice leaves, too!" She declared, looking ready to drag him down from the loft bed by force if necessary. She _was _a little taller than he was. She probably could. Stubborn little _git_.

Janne sent him a blank stare. He wondered if this was her way of pleading.

He felt his willpower crumbling. Was this day really determined to absolutely rip away every security he had come to know and love in his lifetime? His gender, his privacy—gah, it was a _nightmare!_

But… these people, while _insane_, seemed to _mean well_. No one was directing hurtful bards, malignant laughter, and mean-spirited jokes at him. In fact, he was being dragged (nearly kicking and screaming) into a 'friendship' with some girl he didn't even know. Unless she was joking, which was probably more than likely if past experience was anything to go by. Although it still wasn't meant harmfully.

Weird adventures like this started out with a _bang _in many of the fiction books he read.

This could… this could be _okay_.

"Alright. Fine. I'll go." He grumbled with more annoyance then he felt, edging over to the ladder with his skirt tucked carefully under his legs.

Ally threw her hands up. "Yay!" She cheered, looking horribly childish. She scooped up some garment, a brown jacket, which Arthur had failed to notice before and pulled it on. "This is going to be so cool!" She squealed.

He spared a glance to the clock on Janne's desk.

It read 19:41.

7:41pm, he puzzled out. The window even displayed that the sun had already gone down. This time he did audibly groan. It was going to be a late night, _wasn't it_? He glanced at the overly excited Ally.

What had he just gotten himself into?

* * *

**Notes:** Special thanks to 15animefreak15. _You know what you did_. Ha ha ha. Also, special thanks to .Authoress, who gave me permission to use some of her fem!character names, specifically Ally for Alfred, Lovina for Lovino, Feliciana for Feliciano, and Gillian for Gilbert. (I'm not saying she was the first to do it, but I was inspired to use those _from her_.) All the others I came up with on my own, I think.

Speaking of which "Hera" is the easiest way to make Heracles (Greece) female. "Janne" is Norway (who currently has no human name), and I don't know how it would be pronounced in Norwegian, but I'm going with the pronunciation "Jah-nne" which sounds kind of like "John". This is slightly important later.

His train ride was seven hours long, because that's how long a flight between the England and the US is. This does not mean anything as to where the school is geographically—I just keep sticking 'meaning' everywhere and _I don't know why_.

Arthur/Alice is wearing fake-glasses. Ally is currently wearing contacts. I don't know how it worked out that way, but it did. Also, Ally is clinging. There is kind of a reason for this.

Arthur calls Kiku by her first name in his head because he's not use to referring to people by last name.

Also, if I write something about the fae that is distinctly incorrect, don't hesitate to correct me. I'm not researching that too much for this story [at the moment]. It's a rather minor thing currently.

As for the clock thing, in Norway they use 24-hour time and in England that system is usually only implemented when talking about transportation systems, if I'm correct.

I'm sorry, but with moving and such I had to delay the updating of this. And now it looks like it is going to take a backseat to my schooling, education, and art. You can view the status of the newest chapters on my profile. Releases will be slow.


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